


DMMD, Alt: Death Route

by anarchist



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, minkao - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:17:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5819266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchist/pseuds/anarchist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aoba and Mink are not friends and will never be friends. I don't know where you got that idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	DMMD, Alt: Death Route

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't read if you have triggers re: rape and abuse.
> 
> Written one night when I was having a hard time sleeping. I was musing over Mink and the possibility of the characters slowly realizing that their story repeats, different every time, and that every choice they make has consequences - except no one's choices matter as much as Aoba's. And I can't imagine Mink would like to have Aoba choosing his destiny for him, so this is what popped out.
> 
> I don't write sex scenes. I don't know how this happened. I am uncomfortable and will probably not write this kind of stuff anymore. 
> 
> Please note that I do not condone rape, abuse, or homicide. This is a work of fiction. 
> 
> Enjoy.

People die.

You know it. You do. This fact of life. You know it. This thought creeps in the back of your mind; it’s overshadowed by the current goings-on, maybe, but it’s always there, and the moment you sit back and let yourself relax - force yourself to relax in this insanity that we call our lives - it’ll jump at you, baring fangs, ready to eat your thoughts and enter into your world and make you remember this fact, this awful, awful inescapable fact.

People die.

Mink watched many people die. He watched as his life literally burned to the ground before him, and he had to make his life anew, and in this new life he also bore witness to this fact of life, to people dying. 

In this new life, he made himself a king of sorts. He bore witness to death because he caused death. He was death. So when Aoba came around, that blue-haired techno-hipster with the funny voice, he felt no particular pressure to save this life. 

People die.

So Mink, baggy-eyed and forehead creased, calls his dog-men off the blue boy, sending them away, and engages with the boy himself. He smells Aoba - tangy, an aroma that balances out his own musk - and he hears Aoba’s voice, frightened and snarky, throwing insults he couldn’t possibly define. And he reaches out and he feels Aoba. He uses one fist at first, knuckles neatly meeting with the right cheekbone. But this act is at once too intimate and too harsh. He takes a step back and cocks his chin up, biting his lip as he digs into his pockets for the ever-present pipe.

“How do you feel,” he asks, taking a breath to light the pipe, now held gently between his lips, “about a whip?”

Aoba growls, shaking his hands in the cuffs. His face hurts. His body is bruised from the rough handling on the way here. He is certain his nose is just one hit away from bleeding. And yet he decides that he will not dignify that question with a response. Instead, he shoots two very specific words into the air between them: “Fuck. You.”

Mink rocks back on his heels and takes a drag from his pipe before placing it on a nearby table, smoke still spiralling into the room. He marches towards Aoba and kneels, bringing his face down to his and exhaling. Thick smoke billows between them and Aoba holds back a cough. Fuck this guy.

“Listen, Seragaki,” Mink’s voice is a deep gravel road; harsh in some places, gentle in others. He takes one hand to Aoba’s chin and tips it upwards, looking down at this prey. “I brought you here; I can smell it on you. Tell me why,” he growls, “you smell like…”

Mink’s eyes darken and his nose wrinkles. He squeezes Aoba’s jaw and a disgusting, pained squeal echoes out. “Tell me why you smell like home.”

Aoba cannot answer that; so he, still so in the dark about so much of his life, decides to retaliate instead: he gathers his saliva into the front of his mouth and shoots it out - stringy, it misses its target and instead dribbles down his chin. Mink tosses Aoba to the side and stands up, wiping his hands on his jacket. He paces for a moment, noting Aoba’s attempt to struggle away from here, wriggling along the floor on his side, hands cuffed behind his back and legs tied. 

Mink feels something dark come over him. He knows pain and he knows death. He knows that people die. That indisputable fact of life.

He also knows that, right now, he is lusting after the thing squirming on his concrete floor.

He walks over to Aoba, animalian urges taking over as he kneels down at his feet and cuts the rope binding them and then lays his massive body along the boy’s back, forcing him back to the ground despite his struggling. He can feel his loins on fire. Hardness presses through his pants and onto Aoba’s ass, tightly packed into those skinny jeans.

With one hand at his own belt, the other reaches up to Aoba’s head and shoves fingers into his mouth. They are coated in saliva, but he doesn’t stop there: he pushes them in further, tearing the jaw open as he shuffles his weight up the boy’s body and then releases enough for the boy to roll over. 

Aoba’s eyes are wide as he takes in the sight before him. He expected physical abuse, emotional abuse… but this? And he can’t speak, can’t object, because the fingers are still shoved into his mouth, prying his jaw open, as the disgusting object - veins bulging, completely erect, opens his mouth even more.

Mink removes his fingers from Aoba’s mouth, now certain that he can’t bite down even if he wants to, and shoves his member further into this moist cavity. He forces it in deeper until saliva is leaking from the mouth and Aoba is coughing, frantically trying to breathe and writhing beneath him.

He places his hands behind Aoba’s head and lifts it slightly, positioning himself better to be able to fuck this face, to make this boy gag and cough and swallow…

Tears pour from Aoba’s eyes and he feels the blood beginning to drip from his nose. This is not happening. He closes his eyes hard and opens his aching mouth wide - usually feisty, he feels that now is probably a good time to cooperate. Maybe if he cooperates, Mink will only use his face. Maybe he won’t do anything else. Maybe he can escape this in one piece.

Mink feels the warmth rising in him. He feels his blood boiling and his muscles tensing, but he doesn’t want this. So he stops, seconds from coming, breathing heavily and sweating profusely. He removes his member from Aoba’s mouth and Aoba can’t hold back: he rolls over, vomit filling his mouth, as Mink releases him from his hold. He wants to let him breathe. He wants him alive for this next part.

Two minutes. He gives Aoba two minutes to vomit and sob and beg for him to stop. Two minutes of, “Fuck you, please let me go, please stop this.” Two minutes of, “You are evil. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”

And then he is on Aoba again. He has Aoba’s pants torn to pieces on the ground. He has Aoba’s face and chest pressed against the floor and his ass up in the air. He spits, though his member is still covered in fluid. He inserts one finger. It’s an asshole. It’s tight. 

Aoba groans, biting down on his tongue. He is giving up. He doesn’t want to do this, he wants to fight, but his hands are literally tied and he is beaten and weak and Mink is a very large man and a very angry, abusive man.

Mink slides another finger in. He uses these two to try to stretch the hole, to try to make it resemble a size that might - just might - fit his penis. He’s getting frustrated. His cock is pulsing and it needs the attention. He bites his lip and rubs his head against the entry. 

He reaches around and feels for Aoba’s own member, which is dangling and slightly hard. In his hand, it begins to harden more. He fights back a laugh. What a slut, hard already. He jerks the member a few times with his left hand, guiding his own to the pink asshole with his right. He puts pressure into the hole and feels it opening. The dick in his left hand twitches and becomes softer. He gives it a few more jerks until it is hard again. Aoba lets out a moan.

Wait.

Mink looks at Aoba’s face. His cheek is pressed to the floor and his face is blotchy from crying and being fucked. And he’s not enjoying this, but he’s still moaning as Mink’s hand embraces his little member.

Mink lets go of the member, lets it dangle again, and focuses on his own penis again. He pushes it further and feels the entry. He pushes again. The head is in. He feels the resistance as Aoba’s insides push against him. Aoba squeals, pulling away, but Mink places his hands on Aoba’s hips and pulls him closer.

He leans along Aoba’s back, slowly pushing into him more and more and moaning into his ear.

He is inside, fully inside, all the way to his balls. He wiggles his hips in circles, grinding inside of this boy. Aoba is still resisting in small ways: whispered protests, pained groans and yelps, his body pulling away. But Mink is stronger and he leans into Aoba’s ear and, dick fully inside him, snarls, “You are mine.”

He leans back up, away from Aoba, slowly pulls his member halfway out, and then slams it back in. And with that first re-entry done and Aoba’s broken sobs starting up again, he is now fucking the blue boy and he is panting and moaning as his balls slap against Aoba’s ass. 

It is now or never: he is past the point of no return. He comes out of that ass almost all the way and then hammers in again as deep as he can go. Aoba shrieks and Mink does a few hard pumps, releasing every bit of his cum into this asshole. He doesn’t pull his cock out when he’s done. It’s half-flaccid, but he keeps it in there as he reaches below the boy again and grabs his cock.

“Your turn,” he says, jacking the small thing expertly. It’s erect in a few motions and Aoba is holding in his gasps. He cums easily. Mink releases himself from Aoba’s asshole and a line of cum mixed with Aoba’s own insides - blood and shit - dribbles down his ass. 

Mink stands up. He tugs his pants back on and lights up his pipe. Aoba is lying in the ground on his side now, curling into a position that can only be described as fetal. He is crying. 

Mink’s nose wrinkles.

He takes a deep breath of smoke and watches the boy on the ground, considering what to do next.

He feels drawn to let Aoba go. He feels drawn to let him leave, to meet up with him somewhere down the line, to fuck him again, to learn about why he carries such a distinct scent and a distinct voice, and maybe to apologize to him years from now. He feels like his future is set like that - this is what will happen.

He felt like this once before - that his future was set. It was with a girl from his home; an arranged marriage. And he hated that feeling.

He would make his own choices. He fought all his life to make his own choices.

Mink moves quietly to Aoba’s side. Aoba is so absorbed in the pain, in the humiliation, that he isn’t aware of the danger that is Mink’s knife.

In a swift stroke, head is separated from body.

Mink would have no future with Aoba. Mink would create his own future. 

After all, it’s an indisputable fact of life.

People die.


End file.
